Caroline mirrored his movement. “Perhaps, you ought to try and close that distance now. You will not know if it is too late unless you do.”
“My wife is in Yorkshire,” James said.
Caroline shrugged. “Then, you have a long ride ahead of you.”
“Yes…” James came to a standstill in time with the music and bowed his head. “I daresay that I do.”
Caroline curtseyed in response. “In that case, I hope that the next time I see you, your wife is standing at your side, some magic rekindled.”
She had learned a thing or two from Anna since it had been revealed that she was the Matchmaker, and the main lesson that Anna had taught was that there was nothing so detrimental for a couple than miscommunication. Resentment festered in things unsaid or misunderstandings, and resentment was like a weed, smothering the love and affection that might otherwise blossom.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” James bowed his head again, hurrying off without another word.
And as Caroline took a breath and looked at her husband, who still seemed oblivious to her existence, she wondered if she ought to follow her own advice.
All week, Max had been responding to the romantic behavior she had put on for society. He held her hand without hesitation, he smiled at her as if she were something precious, he guided her into tea rooms and around dinner parties with his hand on the small of her back, he danced with her as if there was no one else in the room. More than that, when they returned home each night, he sat beside her in the carriage with his arm around her and had even carried her to her bedchamber once, when she had fallen asleep.
All the rest, she could put under the banner of a performance, but in that carriage where no one else could see them, why had he acted the same way? And why, now, was he pulling away from her so tangibly? At the beginning of the week, there was no way he would have allowed her to dance with someone else. Now, he could not have foisted her off on another fast enough.
No one suddenly changes without good reason,she reminded herself, determined to get to the bottom of whathisreason was.
Watching Caroline dance with James had been a singular sort of torture that no amount of port or distraction could ease for Max. She had looked so happy and so vibrant, her graceful movements attracting the attention of almost everyone at the Assembly Rooms. A rare bird, so beautiful and so intelligent and so amusing and so vivacious that it felt—not for the first time—utterly wrong for her to be trapped in Max’s cage.
She is the kind of woman that could make a man lose all sense of reason. The kind of woman a man could and should be obsessed with.
The tight sensation in his chest had swelled to near suffocation, his veins filled with thorns that prickled from head to toe. It was a feeling he had experienced before, though in a lesser, different capacity. And he did not like it one bit. He was a duke and a respected gentleman with an excellent reputation, not a pitiful schoolboy overcome with jealousy.
I should have come to London straight after the wedding. I should have left her at Harewood or sent her back to Westyork. I should never have spent so much time with her.
He drew in a deep breath, held it in his chest for five seconds, then expelled the air slowly for ten seconds. But no relief came, the breath merely constricting his chest into a tighter vise.
“I think I succeeded in scaring Mr. Forster away,” Caroline’s sweet voice hit him like a rock to the face.
He turned as she approached, resembling an ethereal being as she walked toward him in her gown of light blue, the color of the lake shallows on a summer afternoon. Her cheeks were flushed the prettiest shade of pink, her lips a bitten red, her eyes shining with the exertion of the dance, a lock of her raven hair falling over one eye, begging for his fingertips to brush it back behind her ear.
But if he touched her now, all of his resolve would shatter.
“I ought to depart,” he said roughly. “You do not have to join me. Now that you are a duchess, you should indulge in your freedom. Spend the evening with Phoebe and her sister. I saw them not a moment ago, heading to the tea room.”
Caroline’s face hardened, her lips pressing into a thin, determined line as she took hold of his hand and squeezed it. “What is the matter, Max? Have I done something to annoy you? Your face is notquitethe same as it was when I played my violin badly, but the look in your eyes is not dissimilar.”
“You have not annoyed me. You are doing exactly what I asked you to do,” he replied flatly. “Now, I am giving you the evening to enjoy yourself at your leisure,withoutworrying about keeping up appearances.”
“And what if I would enjoy it more if you stayed?” she replied in defiance.
He managed a tired laugh. “I would wonder if you were quite well.”
“Is it so exhausting to pretend that you like me?” she challenged in a low voice, so no one else could hear.
Max stared at her, his throat constricting along with his chest. Words danced on the tip of his tongue, longing to tell her that the problem was that hedidlike her. Indeed, he was beginning to like her far more than he should.
Every morning, he woke up alone in his bed and looked forward to heading downstairs to breakfast so that he could see her and ask her how she slept. He looked forward to the reassurance of her hand on his arm, the pressure of her body leaning into his, the closeness of her when they shared a carriage journey. He savored every smile and laugh, overjoyed when she did not cover her mouth. And when he returned to his bedchamber, alone, every evening, he missed her with a physical ache that only the promise of the morning could ease.
The performance had blurred into something more, and he could not allow it to continue.
“I will see you in the morning,” he said. “We will leave for your new residence at ten o’clock.”
“So, you have already decided then?” she asked, her tone thick with disappointment.
